who are we without our clothes, our bodies, our salaries

if we strip the man to his bare naked soul

what are we?

all the things we use to fill the momentary void

meaningless sentences

smiles and hellos

a token gift to forgive our absence

simply to buy each other with our colognes and clothes.

every being incessantly crying to be noticed to be loved

whether by god, man, or bank account

the madness never ends

the cons never stop

men literally selling their souls for a piece of bread

so here we are psychologically and physically fighting for socioeconomic leverage

only to meet a cold six foot grave and a disturbed and guilty conscience












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